


Good Neighbors

by ladydragona



Series: Good Omens 2021 Bingo Fills [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Anal Plug, Anal Sex, Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Banter, Car Sex, Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Crowley is a Little Shit (Good Omens), Crowley is desperate, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn trope: car washing, Semi-Public Sex, Sex Toys, actually is it car sex it its over the hood? asking for a friend, aziraphale is oblivious, literally just an excuse to write porn what more do you want from me?, surprisingly tender despite the horny, until he's not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-16 01:48:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29942658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladydragona/pseuds/ladydragona
Summary: Aziraphale just wanted to move out of the city and to have a nice, quite, life. No excitement for him, thank you very much. The man he now lives across from seems determined to make that impossible, however.This fic satisfies my Bingo square: car sex
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Good Omens 2021 Bingo Fills [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2202150
Comments: 35
Kudos: 226
Collections: Good Omens Bingo 2021, Ineffablexxx - Directors Cut, Ixnael’s Recommendations, Our Own Side, Top Aziraphale Recs





	Good Neighbors

**Author's Note:**

> Like the tags said, literally just an excuse to write porn, but seeing as I can't write sex without it being at least a little tender it didn't end up as horny as I wanted 😅

When Aziraphale moved to the village of Tadfield the idea had been to get away from the hustle and bustle of London. Not that there was anything wrong with London, mind, he loved the diversity in food and people but lately things had felt like they were moving a bit too fast for him.

So Tadfield it was. A sleepy little village just far enough into the country to feel isolated, but close enough that he could catch a bus into the city in the morning and be able to be home before dinner time.

Aziraphale had only been living in his new little cottage for a month before it happened.

He knew he had a neighbor across the street who owned a very nice classic Bentley. Aziraphale had never seen the owner, he assumed they were an older gentleman who’d likely had the black beauty from new and was now enjoying his twilight years and retirement in the countryside.

This assumption was incorrect.

The owner of the Bentley was not, in fact, an old retiree. Well, he might have been prematurely retired. Perhaps he was just one of the lucky few who made enough money to retire early. He certainly looked the part.

Aziraphale had been standing on his porch, sipping the mornings tea and glancing over his paper when he saw him for the first time. Tall and thin, with cheekbones sharp enough one could cut their palm on them, red hair mussed in a way meant to look messy but artful, and black trousers so tight Aziraphale would have thought them painted on were there not a set of keys hanging from a belt loop.

And his walk, _good lord_. Hips swinging like his spine was more a pendulum string than a stack of bones and muscle. How, exactly, he managed it without falling over eluded Aziraphale even as he was very grateful for the view.

If they weren’t in the middle of a little village Aziraphale might have thought he was one of those famous bebop stars young teenage girls gathered in hoards to fawn over. As it was, they _were_ in a little village and this man, who Aziraphale swore couldn’t have been older than thirty, stuck out like a sore thumb.

He rationalized it at first. Perhaps he wasn’t the owner after all. Perhaps he was just the grandson of the owner come to visit an ailing relative. There was, however, no other vehicle in the driveway. And Aziraphale had to come to face that fact that no, this wasn’t a grandson of his neighbor when he approached the car, unhooked the keys from his belt, and unlocked the door.

The man looked up over the top of the car and Aziraphale felt his face heat when he looked at him. He was wearing extremely dark sunglasses but Aziraphale just _knew_ he’d been spotted because the man smirked and gave a nonchalant wave. Aziraphale wiggled his fingers in return and prayed to the holy God above they were far enough apart for his red face to not be obvious.

He really shouldn’t have been ogling his neighbor, no matter how sexy he was. He wasn’t some old letch.

That was the end of their interaction. The man got into his Bentley, reversed out of his driveway, and drove away, not even looking in Aziraphale’s direction before he disappeared around the corner at the end of the street.

This was fine. They were only neighbors, not even acquaintances! There was no reason for such a devilishly handsome man to look twice at him. Besides, he looked terribly flash and Aziraphale just knew they wouldn’t even have a single thing in common.

Aziraphale finished his tea and went back inside. It was unlikely he’d even see the man that often anyway. Obviously their schedules were very different and had only lined up just this once. Obviously.

It happened again.

Aziraphale was coming home from the local market, arms loaded with groceries in paper bags when he saw him. There was a hedge, tall and thick, that blocked most of his neighbors driveway and front yard. It was a thing of beauty, which Aziraphale was beginning to wonder if everything to do with his awfully attractive neighbor was beautiful, and Aziraphale had just assumed he paid someone to trim it.

This was, apparently, not the case.

Aziraphale rounded the corner and there he was dressed in overalls, with no shirt underneath, bare arms lifted and flexing as he cut stray leaves and twigs from the hedge around his property. Hair more messy than last time with stray greenery stark against the red. Aziraphale could even see a smudge of what looked like dirt across his cheek.

Sweet heavens. Aziraphale swallowed past his suddenly dry throat as he drew nearer and could see beads of sweat rolling down the long line of neck. The desire to go right up behind him and lick them off was as overwhelming as much as it was concerning.

Certainly a stranger would not appreciate such a thing. Certainly his neighbor, who’s name he didn’t even know, would not appreciate such a thing. Aziraphale decided to cross the street before he was seen, go inside, and take a long cold shower. It was obviously what he deserved, what he needed to do before he thought even more lewd things about the poor unsuspecting man.

He didn’t get the chance. Just as Aziraphale turned to cross to his own home he froze as a low timbered voice called out to him.

“Hey, er, you just moved in, right?”

Aziraphale turned slowly and put on his best polite smile. “Y-yes, I did, rather.”

It was impossible not to stare. Impossible not to glance at the hint of red chest hair as he wiped his hands on the front of the overalls. Aziraphale had to clench his hands in the bags he held in order to keep himself from reaching out to brush damp flame bright hair from his brow. The lazy half smile that showed a peek of a slightly longer than average canine was awfully endearing.

He approached, hips swinging once again though Aziraphale couldn’t tell if it actually was less pronounced today or if he’d just been so taken by him at first sight that his mind had exaggerated the movement. Regardless, it was no less hypnotic. He wiped his hands again, this time sliding them down his body from chest to thighs, and Aziraphale couldn’t help but imagine what it might be like to have those long fingers caressing himself in such a manner.

Oh. That was a dangerous road to let his mind wander down. Very dangerous indeed.

“Well then, let me welcome you to the neighborhood,” his neighbor said and stuck his hand out. If Aziraphale didn’t know better he might have though he sounded almost sultry. But that was utterly ridiculous and surely his mind playing tricks on him. It had to be.

“Right, ah, of-of course.” Aziraphale extracted one hand from his groceries and clasped it to his neighbors. His hand was thin with long fingers that wrapped around Aziraphale’s easily. Rough too, of a man who knew hard work.

Aziraphale swallowed again.

Whatever it was about this man that seemed to pull him in, make it impossible to look away, Aziraphale didn’t know. But it was powerful. More powerful than any attraction he’d felt before. He would need to be careful with this, least it consume him and he start letching after a man without even an inkling of whether he was even gay or not.

Though the handshake that was dragging out longer than it strictly needed to be was making that difficult.

“No name, then?”

“I-I’m sorry?” Aziraphale stuttered.

“Just, you know, wondering what my neighbors name is.”

Aziraphale blinked rapidly at the steadily climbing eyebrows as his brain slowly processed the request. “Oh! Oh, of course. Aziraphale. My name, that is, is Aziraphale Fell.” And Aziraphale braced himself for the mocking and questions surely to come.

He was pleasantly surprised when they didn’t.

“Aziraphale… ‘S not bad. Suits you.”

Even more surprised when he didn’t have to correct his pronunciation as he had grown so used to doing when introducing himself. It rolled off his tongue so easily and Aziraphale _liked_ the way it sounded in this man's voice.

“Oh, thank you, Mr…?”

“Crowley. Well, Anthony Crowley. But I prefer just Crowley.”

“Just Crowley it is, then,” Aziraphale breathed, keenly aware of how their hands were still clasped together and the half cocked smirk his neighbor - Crowley - had on. “Wonderful to meet you.”

“And you. You just moved in, right?”

“Yes. Just over a month now. Needed to get away from the city, you know.” He tried not to feel bereft when Crowley released his hand.

Crowley nodded and Aziraphale wished he wasn’t wearing those glasses so he could see where his eyes were.

“That’s quite a lot of groceries you got here. Need any help with them?”

“Oh, no!” Aziraphael said, too aware that he wasn’t sure what he would do if he got Crowley alone. Probably ogle him some more and say something inappropriate. Best if he stayed out here, protected by the possibility of someone coming by at any time. “Though I, er, I should get these inside. It was lovely to finally meet you!”

Aziraphale would never admit that he fled, but it was the only way to describe how he rushed across the street, the feel of Crowley’s covered eyes hot on his back.

Damn it. Damn it. _Damn it_.

Crowley bit his lip to keep from calling out to Aziraphale. Stared at his retreating back and mentally kicked himself for not having a better plan.

But at least now he had a name. Knew now what to call the gorgeous man he'd been obsessing over for the past month.

It had started as an idle curiosity. A moving van woke him up two hours before his alarm was set to go off. He’d been annoyed at first. Because, really, who moved in someplace at six in the bloody morning?

A bonafide angel, that’s who.

All blonde curls and sunshiney smiles, Crowley had watched him go from his house to the van from behind an upstairs window.

He told himself he wasn't being a creep. It was just good neighborhood consciousness to be aware of who was moving in. And it had nothing to do with the guy hitting all of Crowley’s typical buttons. Blonde, older than himself, plump around the middle, strong enough to lift large boxes with ease, and- Crowley almost inhaled his too-hot coffee when a book slid off the top of a box and he bent over to pick it up, trousers stretched tight over his considerable arse.

Oh yes, Angel, as Crowley had started calling him in his head, was definitely his type.

Well there really had been only one thing he could do about this. Crowley was nothing if not an opportunist, so he would flaunt what being thirty-four hadn't taken from him yet and hope for an enthusiastic buggering.

He picked his outfit, something he knew accentuated all his best features, and waited. The waiting would take a little while because apparently Angel wasn't the type to hang around outside much and it wasn't like he could just go up to his door, knock, and say “Hi, sorry to bother, I just think you're maddeningly sexy and I'd like it if you bent me over the nearest flat surface post haste and fucked me silly.”

However when his patience finally did pay off, Crowley realized he hadn't come up with a plan on what to do once he _had_ Angel's attention. Well, at least the man knew he existed. And the second time he tried, he was sure he had him.

And when the second time had come Aziraphale had been blushing up to his ears, eyes unable to look away. Crowley just _knew_ Aziraphale wanted him. Was certain he was about to get what he wanted. And if his own attraction had only grown after seeing Aziraphale give lemonade to the neighborhood kids or after feeling just how soft his hands were that was his business.

But it hadn't worked. Something had gone wrong. He was watching Aziraphale go back into his house and shut the door instead of watching him pull his cock out of his trousers.

Well, Crowley was also an optimist and didn’t they, whoever _they_ were, say the third time was the charm?

So Crowley planned and he plotted. Everything had to be perfect. His outfit, the weather, the time of day. It all had to be just right if he was going to pull this off and if it didn’t work _this time_ he’d- well he’d probably still have guilty wanks over Aziraphale but at least he could say he put in a proper effort.

When England's shitty unpredictable weather finally decided to cooperate- not too hot, not too cold, but just warm enough and sunny- Crowley was ready.

He left the house, hips swinging in the smallest pair of red hotpants he owned, though not nearly as much as he wanted them too. He’d almost thrown his hip out the first time and still hadn’t fully recovered. A thin grey tank top he knew would ride up and cling in all the right ways with his hair pinned away from his face. No shoes, he wouldn’t be needing shoes.

Crowley pulled his precious Bentley out of the garage. Parked just behind the hedges that outlined his property, perfectly hidden from everyone except from one, specific, angle. The backend of the car peaked out just enough to be seen from the kitchen window of the angelic man Crowley was attempting to seduce.

“Now,” Crowley said, tapping the hood of his Bentley. “You are going to get me laid, got it?”

The Bentley said nothing as she was wont to do while Crowley fetched the hose he’d bought just for this purpose.

Aziraphale thought the day was terribly nice. They’d had a string of cool cloudy days the last week or so, and so the warm and sunshine was a welcome reprieve. He’d just come in from reading in the back garden, planning on finishing off his pitcher of lemonade and perhaps starting on rebinding one of his older first editions.

It just so happened that Aziraphale glanced out the window over the sink as he grabbed his glass. The sight sent blood pooling both north and south, his hand slipped, and the empty glass shattered on the floor.

His neighbor, Crowley as he now knew, was outside bent over his car in the most scandalous get up short of being full on nude. Wearing the smallest, tightest, pair of trousers Aziraphale could imagine. So small, in fact, his pert arse was hanging out of the bottom and the words on the back barely fit. ‘Bite me’ in bold font on one cheek. A partially bitten apple on the other.

Aziraphale had to grip the counter to keep himself upright when Crowley stood and turned, the front of his tank top soaked through with water, darkening and clinging to the planes of his chest and stomach.

Then he strutted around the car and disappeared from view and Aziraphael breathed a sigh of relief. It was- it was _obscene_. How dare he walk about like that! In broad daylight! Where anyone could _see him_! Well, Aziraphale was half a mind to march over there and- and-

Crowley was back. This time with a bucket and a sponge.

And Aziraphale could see clearly in his mind's eye where this was going to lead. Crowley with rivets of soapy water running down his body. Reaching up with a soaked sponge to wipe the top of his car, his top riding up to expose the small of his back. And he couldn’t have that. Not at all.

Aziraphale was out the door and into the street before he could talk himself out of it. Crowley had his back to him, having already bent over once again, _sweet heavens_ , and wringing soapy water from the sponge.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Aziraphale hissed as he crossed from the sidewalk onto Crowley’s driveway, trying and failing not to stare at the curves of his arse peeking out from the bottom of his tiny trousers.

His neighbor stopped and straightened up to turn slowly, eyebrows raised over his ever present glasses. “What does it look like? ‘M washing my car.”

Aziraphale could _see_ that. “Like _that_?”

“Like what?”

“You know like what!” Aziraphale said in a huff and frantically waved his hand in a way meant to encompass all of Crowly’s outfit.

Crowley just _grinned_ at him and leaned back, elbows resting on the hood of his Bentley, exaggerating the long line of him and making his top ride up just enough for a trail of red hair to be seen disappearing into his trousers. His head very obviously looked down, then up, then back down again sharply. “Are you sure you’re complaining with a package like that?”

Aziraphale froze, realizing he hadn’t taken stock of himself before rushing over, and was embarrassed to realize he was quite hard. Obviously so. He flushed in embarrassment. “Now see here, I-” He stopped as he happened to glance down and saw Crowley’s trousers were also straining. “You-” The puzzle pieces were slowly clicking into place, but Aziraphale was still unsure if the picture they made was just what he wanted to see or not. “You- Did you _plan_ this?”

The choked noise Crowley made wasn’t something translatable in any language. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Aziraphale took a step forward and watched Crowley lift his chin, water droplets rolling down his long neck to disappear into his top. “I think you did.”

“You think?”

“I think you did this on purpose. To get attention.” Every step seemed to make the pink on Crowley’s face and chest darker. Aziraphale watched the bob of this throat when he swallowed and wanted to bite it like the apple on his arse. “My attention, specifically.”

Crowley’s breath was ragged when he spoke again. “So what if I did? Going to do something about it?”

He hoped, _hoped_ , he was right. Hoped he was reading the signs correctly.

Aziraphale took one final step, bringing him chest to chest with the infuriatingly sexy man he just so happened to live across from. Crowley hadn’t moved, seemed almost waiting, anticipatory. Aziraphale planted himself between Crowley’s spread knees, leaned in, and kissed him.

The mouth under his wasted no time in kissing him back, hands coming up to grasp at the lapels of his shirt. Crowley’s lips were thin, but soft and eager. Aziraphale couldn’t help but grab at Crowley’s boney hips and tug him closer, fingers brushing the heated wet skin of his sides and back.

Crowley groaned into his mouth at the touch, lips falling open and welcoming his tongue inside. Crowley tasted sweet and a little bit like mint. Aziraphale almost laughed at the thought of him chewing gum or brushing his teeth with the sole purpose of getting here but then Crowley rolled his hips, giving them both delicious friction, and Aziraphale forgot all about that.

He broke the kiss to trail more of them across Crowley’s jaw, licking the water from his damp skin.

“Ffffuck, Aziraphale.”

“Is that what you were wanting?” Aziraphale whispered into his ear, only vaguely aware Crowley’s top was soaking his own shirt.

Crowley groaned back at him and threaded his long fingers through his hair. “Do I have to spell it out for you?”

Aziraphale pulled back, just far enough to look at him. Crowley’s glasses had slid down his nose and the most beautiful pair of golden eyes he’d ever seen started back at him. “I’d like to know our activities are mutually desired.”

A softness came about him and Crowley pulled their lips together again before answering. “Aziraphale, I have wanted you to bugger me six ways from Sunday ever since I saw you moving in. So could we get on with it?”

He laughed as he kissed Crowley again, one hand coming up to cup his sharp jaw and keep him there while the other slid under his top, the wet fabric clinging and cold. “This can’t be at all comfortable,” Aziraphale murmured against Crowley’s lips. “Why don’t we remove it?”

The speed at which Crowley complied was terribly endearing. And the sight of his torso on full display, sparse red hair across the wiry muscles of his chest and belly that lead downward to the straining bulge in his ridiculous trousers, made Aziraphale’s mouth water. He wasted no time in going back to the task of tasting Crowley’s skin, tongue laving at his neck while one hand slid up his side and the other plunged downward to grasp Crowley’s arse.

Crowley groaned aloud and rolled his hips with more gusto, sending little sparks of pleasure every time their cocks dragged together.

“Supplies,” Aziraphael gasped out. “We need-”

Crowley shushed him with a sharp kiss and probing tongue. “Gotcha covered.” He then reached into the open window of the car and retrieved a small bottle of lube from the dash.

Aziraphale did laugh then, with his face pressed to Crowley’s neck. “I _knew_ you’d planned this.”

“Sssshut up,” Crowley grumbled. “We gonna do this or not?”

“Of course, but you’ll need to turn over. It’ll be- Oh!” Aziraphale didn’t even have a chance to finish before Crowley was spinning himself around, arms braced on the Bentley’s hood. Presenting his arse in those illegally small trousers, the fabric pulled taut over his small backside. ‘Bite me’, they said. Well, Aziraphale thought he just might.

“Look at you,” Aziraphale whispered and bent to what he’d wanted to do days ago and licked the salt sweat from the back of his neck. “Aren’t you just delectable.”

Crowley’s head fell forward and a groan escaped his lips. “Com’on. What do I gotta to do to- uuuhhhh.”

Aziraphale grinned against his neck as Crowley’s complaint faltered when he reached around and palmed over the bulge in his trousers. Delighted when Crowley shamelessly ground his hips forward into the palm of his hand. Meager zipper barely able to hold him in. “You put these on just to torment me, didn’t you?”

“What- ah- what gave you that impression?”

“How absolutely gagging you are to be bent over and given a proper seeing to, for one.” If the way Crowley’s hips pressed back against him, giving Aziraphale’s cock the blessed friction it desired, was any indication he’d hit the nail right on the head.

“Then bloody well ‘see to me’ then, you bastard,” Crowley growled.

Aziraphale gave the cock in his hand a squeeze that had Crowley gasping before making quick work of the short zipper and button.

It was only when Crowley’s erection sprang free that Aziraphale realized _of course_ he wasn’t wearing any pants. Perhaps he should have assumed, with how constricting the trousers were, but he hadn’t. He wasn’t about to complain, of course.

Aziraphale grasped him, sliding his hand from base to tip. Skin velvety soft under his fingers.

He heard Crowley whisper “Oh fuck,” under his breath as he swiped his thumb through the pre-come already gathered at the tip and gave him an languid stroke.

“That’s right,” Aziraphale whispered back through Crowley’s soft moans.

His other hand went to work tugging Crowley’s silly trousers down, which only worked until they refused to go any farther than the curve of his arse.

“Have-nnnggg- having trouble?”

“You just had to wear the tightest trousers you could find, didn’t you?” Aziraphale huffed, punctuating every few words with a sharp yank.

Crowley laughed and wiggled his hips. “Worked, didn’t it?”

They had, yes, but Aziraphale wasn’t about to admit as such out loud.

With one final tug Crowley’s ridiculous trousers finally slid free and Aziraphale was treated to the sight of his arse fully bare. 

Aziraphale ran his hand up Crowley’s pert backside and across his back. So much golden skin at his fingertips, freely given and his for the taking.

Crowley arched into the touch like a particularly friendly cat, which was when Aziraphale was surprised, and almost scandalized, to notice a black disk nestled between his cheeks.

A plug.

“Oh, you _are_ a naughty one, aren't you?” Aziraphale murmured and ran his thumb over the soft silicone, giving the center of it a little push.

Crowley groaned and rocked his hips back to meet him. “You fucking te-eeease,” Crowley squeaked when Aziraphale pushed a little harder and squeezed his cock at the same time.

The realization that Crowley had planned all of this, chose this specific outfit, had gone out of his way to stretch himself open in preparation. It was enough to drive Aziraphale wild, knowing such a gorgeous man wanted him that badly.

“I'm going to remove this.” Aziraphale gave a little tug to the plug that had Crowley’s back arching again. “And then I'm going to replace it with my cock.”

Crowley nodded vigorously. “Yes. Yes. Yes, do it already” 

Aziraphale had to release his cock, which Crowley initially whined at, to spread his arse and properly pull on the plug. His whines quickly dissolved into soft gasps and moans that went straight to Aziraphale's own neglected erection as he worked the toy free.

“Fucking hell,” Crowley panted when it finally came out. Aziraphale watched him clench around empty air, suddenly desperate to fill that space himself.

It was a race to unfasten his own trousers. Belt, button, zip; Aziraphale silently cursed his own proclivity for being properly dressed if only because it took much longer than it should have to actually get his cock free of it’s confines.

When he finally did, trousers still mostly up and pants pulled down just enough to be serviceable, Aziraphale gave himself a few quick strokes just to take some of the edge off.

“Oh, shit, I knew you were big.”

Aziraphale’s eyes shot up to see Crowley looking at him from over his shoulder, golden eyes fully visible as his dark glasses had apparently been discarded. They were beautiful. Dilated with want and highlighted by the pink flush of his cheeks.

Even if he’d wanted to, Aziraphale wouldn’t have been able to stop himself from leaning over Crowley once again and kissing him, tasting the sunshine from his eager lips. At this angle his cock rubbed against Crowley’s loosened hole and Aziraphale rocked against it as they kissed.

“But you can take me, can’t you,” Aziraphale said against his mouth as Crowley moaned and nodded. “Of course you can.”

Aziraphale relieved Crowley of the lube he still had in hand to slick up his erection, moaning softly into Crowley’s ear as he did. The bottle dropped to the driveway below, forgotten by the both of them as Aziraphale pressed close and positioned the head of his cock at Crowley’s previously stretched entrance.

Even with the preparation Crowley hissed when the head of Aziraphale’s cock pushed past his tight ring of muscle. The fit tight around his considerable girth. With a groan Aziraphale pressed his face to the back of Crowley’s neck, feeling him shudder and clench beneath him.

“Are you alright?” Aziraphale whispered against his sweat damp skin.

Crowley bobbed his head quickly. “Yeah I’m- ngh- I’m good. Keep-keep going,” he said with a stuttered roll of his hips that had them both gasping.

With his assurances Aziraphale pressed into Crowley’s hot clenching body, burying himself deeper with each thrust. The soft moans and whines that fell from Crowley’s lips with each drag of his cock was sweet music to Aziraphale’s ears.

He had to pause, just for a moment, to breathe and hold Crowley’s hips steady once he was fully sheathed, pressed flush with Crowley’s arse and enveloped in the velvet heat of him.

“Oh, darling, you feel marvelous. So tight and hot. Taking every inch.”

Crowley whined. “For-for the love of g-someone. _Move_. K-killing me, here.”

“Only a little death, preferably,” Aziraphale responded and pulled back until just the head remained and pushed back in to the hilt in one thrust.

And with that Aziraphale set a steady pace of pulling back and thrusting forward. Every forward push of hips pushed Crowley’s body further onto the hood of his car, his fingers scrambling for purchase on the smooth metal and strings of profanity falling from his lips.

Even with his verbal incoherence Crowley still pushed back to meet each thrust and Aziraphale wasn’t certain, with the pleasure sending zings all the way down to his curled toes, how long he would last like this.

It was only when a car passed by, Crowley’s tall hedge the only thing hiding them from the road, that Aziraphale remembered they were outside. They could be heard. Or seen. He swifty covered Crowley’s mouth, the change in angle making him moan that was only muffled by Azirphale’s palm.

“Q-quiet now, dear,” Aziraphale panted into Crowley’s ear. “Wouldn’t want- Wouldn’t want someone to hear.”

Crowley moaned into his hand again, only quieter.

“Should put something in there, too. Keep your mouth occupied. Would you like that?”

Another moan, but this time Crowley opened his mouth and didn’t close it. His breath was coming out in hot pants, tongue swiping at Aziraphale’s fingers, and there really only was one solution to that.

Aziraphale slipped his middle and forefinger passed Crowley’s open lips to press down on his tongue.

It didn’t entirely stop the noises Crowley didn’t seem able to stop making, but it did keep him from drawing attention to them. The suction and Crowley’s tongue wrapping around his fingers was also distracting enough to keep Aziraphale from finding his release too quickly.

His other hand snaked around Crowley’s waist to find his cock where it bobbed between his belly and the car, leaking a veritable puddle on the black paint. Crowley’s whole body shuddered when Aziraphale wrapped his hand around it again. He barely had to move his wrist as Crowley thrust back onto his cock and then forward into his fist, fucking himself from both directions.

It did not take long for his movements to become erratic, a sharp whine coming from somewhere in his throat before his body clenched even tighter around Aziraphale and he painted the hood of his car in white.

Between the pull of Crowley’s body and his own pent-up need, Aziraphale was not far behind. Only a handful of thrusts were needed before he too felt the crest of orgasm, spilling deep inside of Crowley with his own moans buried in his sweat damp back.

They stayed like that for a moment, pressed and locked together, as Aziraphale’s wet fingers fell from Crwoley’s panting mouth.

The sun shined hard on them and Aziraphale felt the cool trickle of sweat down his back and temples. Now that the high of lust and want and need was beginning to settle, Aziraphale found he didn’t quite know what to say or how long was too long to hold a lover you barely knew. But before the insidious fingers of doubt and shame could worm their way into his mind soft lips pressed to his hand.

“So, er, dinner? Tonight? Maybe?”

Aziraphale pressed his face into the nap of Crowley’s neck and laughed. His cock was softening and slipping out of Crowley’s arse, his hand was covered in ejaculate, and the front of his shirt was soaked with water and he laughed. “We- ha- we did this a bit backwards, didn't we?”

It only took a moment for Crowley to start laughing too. “So!? Who says we have to do things in a special order?”

“People do, dear boy,” Aziraphale said, straightening up and gently encouraging Crowley to do the same. His cheeks were still beautifully flushed and his grin and the gleam of his eyes were playful. Though he winced as he leaned back against the car, tiny trousers still down near his knees. Aziraphale leaned back in to kiss the smile from his lips. “Though, I suggest take out for dinner. You can take me to a proper restaurant next time, when you won’t be quite so sore.”

The laugh he received was bright and full of mischief and Aziraphale was certain Crowley would be keeping him on his toes for a while to come.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! The fancy line break is my own art, do not use without permission!


End file.
